


The (Lunch) Date To End All Dates

by inkyandness



Category: Drawfee, Drawfee - Freeform - Fandom, Drawfee RPF, Hot Guy P.I. (Webcomic)
Genre: Case Fic, Everyone has 3 brain cells and they gotta solve crimes that's the concept folks, Johnny Test (Mentioned), Lunch date, M/M, Murder Mystery, Mutual Pining, Mystery, head empty, it's not gonna get any better than this, neurodivergent schmidt, no brain cells, the inherent homoeroticism of demonstrating a murder method
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkyandness/pseuds/inkyandness
Summary: "Nando liked to think that he was a human person capable of good taste. He liked things that were cool and good, like tigers and Ducktales.Nando thought he had good taste. He had thought that he had liked people that were kinder and more cunning than his current companion.And yet,Look at who he’s on a lunch date with."(Or, in which a simple meal together escalates into a mystery of sorts.)
Relationships: Schmidt/Nando
Comments: 7
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

Nando liked to think that he was a human person capable of good taste. He liked things that were cool and good, like tigers and Ducktales.

That wasn’t to say that Schmidt wasn’t cool or good, he dressed to the nines at all hours of the day from what Nando could tell, in his black peacoat and high collar, but it was also hard to find someone cool when they were afraid of a dog like _that…_

 _It was wielding a knife,_ Nando thought, trying to give Schmidt the benefit of the doubt to some degree, even though saying that the dog was “wielding” it -so to speak- was an insult to anybody who’d ever risen bronze and blade.

And that’s how things had circled back to here, right where they started.

Nando thought he had good taste. He had thought that he had liked people that were kinder and more cunning than his current companion.

_And yet,_

_Look at who he’s on a lunch date with._

…

Well, it’s not a DATE date, it’s more complicated than that, really, or at least that’s how he tried to explain the whole ordeal to his daughter this morning, before she was shoving him out the front door on her day off to have his weird crisis over Schmidt elsewhere. She might still have been embarrassed for getting a puppy crush on the same guy her dad did, which, must’ve been an undeniable blow to the ego for a teenage girl.

And so, with no daughter to hassle for an extra pancake or two, nothing to do, and no cases in sight, what else was he supposed to do but meet up with his work buddy for salt and pepper fries and weirdly distilled milkshakes from that cafe down the street?

A couple of hours earlier than they were supposed to.

“I know the owner, I’ve promoted them on Instagram a few times.” Schmidt mentioned in a passing manner as he looked out at the cars on the street that sped by here and there, as well as the pedestrian traffic at the forefront.

Given that the skies were as light and soft as they could ever be in the turbulent city they lived in, they decided to take the opportunity to appreciate the good weather and got a table outside, though still separated from the general public by a short iron-cast fence that looped around the outside venue, practically caging the customer’s inside. _Nadia could problem jump that fence if she had a running start_ was a thought that Nando let briefly drift within his mind. He didn’t know why he thought it, or what he was going to do with it, but it was definitely a thought he had. He moved on from that, steadfast as ever.

“I’m sure she was rather thankful for the boom in her business,” Nando said, a little sarcastically. He didn’t mind Schmidt personally, but the whole influencer thing had a layer of self-entitlement and scumminess to it that Nando couldn’t abide by. _Maybe Schmidt sees it too, it may be why he’s trying to deviate from such a path. Still, detective agency? It felt like a huge leap._

“She was, apparently she told me that there’s been some girls looking for me?” He sounded more confused than arrogant as he tilted his head like a lost puppy, and Nando couldn’t help but crack a smile at his face.

“Well, good for you, dude!”

“I don’t get it. Why are they looking for me?”

“What?”

“If they have a case for us to solve, they should send it through the business email I made for our detective agency. Why would they be looking for us otherwise?”

_Ohhh….Did he not really know?_

_No, he’s a social media personality, he’s gotta know…_

“First of all, I don’t think we’re legally allowed to call ourselves a detective agency. It’s not like we’re licensed PI.”

“You need a license to be a PI?”

_Oh god, he really doesn’t know, huh._

“Well…” Nando let the sentence hang in the air, trying to figure out based on Schmidt’s face which answer was probably more of interest to him. Who could really say with that man.

So, he chose the answer that was the least inconvenient for him.

“It’s not like every storybook boy detective got to roll up and be a professional sleuth, right?”

“Yeah, because he’s a _child.”_

“Any child who can outsmart a cop is a child that deserves a chance to solve crimes.”

“Have you ever met a cop?”

“What kind of a question is that? Could you outsmart a cop?”

Their conversation continued in that manner for a while, aimless and strange. Any passer-by who cared to listen to what they had to say would find it uniquely incomprehensible, in the way that it was the babblings of two good friends who both seemed to be telling a joke that neither one was in on. However, there was a weird sort of energy to it, as they matched wit for wit, or rather, dumb idea for dumb idea. 

However, the two did not find the conversation funny in the slightest.

“Johnny Test is not a boy detective! He just travels the world with his father! Any mystery is purely incidental.”

“That’s Johnny _Quest._ ”

“Wait, really? Then why did they make their names sound so similar?”

“I don’t know, how do you know who Johnny Test is? I had a young daughter in the 2000s, what’s your excuse?”

“We’re getting off-topic.” Schmidt said, raising his hands in a way to direct the conversation, probably away from the implication that he watched a single frame of Johnny Test, but whether that would be for naught, who could say. However, before any of that could occur, a waitress, who looked to be in her mid-20s with bright brown eyes and dark hair dropped off their milkshakes and a small slip of paper.

“Isn’t it a little too early to drop off the receipt?” Schmidt muttered allowed. “We didn’t even get our fries.”

Nando decided that this was the perfect moment to take a long, hard sip of his mint chocolate chip milkshake, if only to bring to mind the analogy of day-drinking. Nando swore to God that his dumb hot co-worker and his dumb hot ways were going to be the end of him. Because, yeah, he’s _dumb,_ but he’s also _hot,_ and Nando needs _something_ to tell Chandler when they’re stuck shooting hoops and eating microwaved pizza at the arcade while her little sister and her daughter run amuck. She’s getting sick and tired of hearing him talk about Schmidt’s latest antics as much as he’s getting tired of hearing about trying to prove that Joey is out to ruin her life.

“Are you alright?” Schmidt asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

Nando blinked twice, and broke into what looked to be a natural smile. “What, why? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, but you seem,” Schmidt took the moment to do a vague gesture with his hands, “out of it. Not there.”

Maybe Schmidt knew what he was talking about some of the time. 

“Not to mention, it’s 10 in the morning, and we’re having lunch. Is something going on with your daughter, or-?”

“What? No, no. If there was something going on with Nadia **,** I’d be home...I just...I’ve just been thinking.”

Schmidt looked a touch worried about things, but simply waited for Nando to elaborate. Nando didn’t get the chance to.

When they heard a high pitched scream behind them, they whipped their heads to see a woman booking it out of an alleyway, pursued by someone in a hoodie that marred their face, but definitely someone bigger and stronger. Although she was out in the open, there wasn’t enough people that could witness any crime that could take place. She was still in danger. If she disappeared, how many people would notice? Would anyone even give a statement to the police if it came to that? She didn’t know, but she was not optimistic.

“Help! _Please_ help!” She cried, in a way that was desperately asking not to be forgotten, the hope of being saved seemingly slipping her mind with every frantic step she took. The thought of anyone taking action at this point felt like a fool’s errand on her part.

However, someone did take action. Two someones in fact, although considering it a rescue was more generous than anything else at this point.

What happened was this:

Upon hearing a scream, the two men turned their heads to find a woman running down the sidewalk, and although there was a few people milling about and some cars driving by, it looked as if they were going to do nothing more than rubbernecking as they quickly turned to see the figure who was chasing her.

The figure was approaching fast, and based on how close to the cafe’s fence the woman was running, they could only assume the figure would run the same course, only a few feet away from their faces.

They could do something with that, probably. What they were going to do, though, who’s to say? They certainly didn’t know.

The figure was approaching, and approaching fast. Nando got up from his seat and took a few steps back, if only to get a little distance before he hopped the fence. He figured this; if he hopped the fence as soon as the guy ran near, he might be able to snag them. If not, he could just gun for them, if only to take action against the person if they did eventually catch the woman they were so set on chasing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Schmidt rise from his chair, knuckles white against the back.

The two seemed to be operating in lockstep, a rather pleasant surprise for Nando all things considered. 

He focused his sights forward. 

He leaned on his back leg to get as much propulsion as possible. 

He saw the figure move right before his eyes, and he felt himself lift off the ground-

_CLANG!_

Schmidt had swung his metal chair at the figure’s head, knocking the pursuer to the ground with not a crunch, but a thud. Schmidt himself off balance as he was forced to follow through with the motion he had started and had to struggle not to take out the umbrella attached to their table that was in his path.

And then there was Nando, who landed on the other side, scrambled to stay balanced, and had been so ready to turn the pursuer into the pursued, only for Schmidt to take care of that problem very, _very_ quickly.

And as he watched Schmidt struggle to stay on his feet, eyes wide and panicked, but very clearly concerned, he was reminded of why he loved him so much in the first place.

Schmidt wasn’t the smartest guy around. Not in a mean way, he just seemed rather absentminded and unaware of what was going on around him, (he had asked him what the “K” in “K-Pop” stood for once, after all,) but what he lacked in general common sense he made up for in just how kind he seemed to be. Nando may have stood up to help this woman, but Schmidt did too, completely of his own accord, and Nando couldn’t forget all those incidents before then when he helped people just because they needed help, or all those nice things he did when he thought Nando wasn’t paying attention, like getting him coffee or petting the occasional stray cat.

Sure, were there people kinder? Of course, but there was something so genuine and confused about it that made it something rather endearing in the first place.

Schmidt didn’t look like the kind of person to be nice. He looked like the kind of person who’d peruse old book stores and used to smoke and just generally gave off the vibe of someone cold and distant, but the fact of the matter was that Schmidt was scared of dogs and needles and was an instagram model who didn’t understand why girls gave him their numbers and knows how to lockpick but not how to drive.

Schmidt was so, so kind, and so, so _stupid_ and just so weirdly himself and Nando wouldn’t have him literally any other way.

However, he may have just killed a human person, and that was a problem in its own right.

“Uhhhhh” Nando said intelligently, but you’ve got to forgive him. He’s going through a lot at the moment, sure, not as much as whoever this dude was who got knocked out with a metal chair, but still. “Did you kill him?”

Schmidt, who had gone through the follow-through and had a look in the eye that was rather reminiscent of a deer in the headlights, said nothing, but also looked rather nervous.

“His head would be bleeding a lot more if he was. Head wounds are always gnarly, though that might mean some internal bleeding. It’s hard to say.” An unknown lilt said, though they may have recognized it more if it was screaming.

The woman had returned, she must have run back to meet them and assess what happened after Schmidt knocked the man out. She was short, with blonde streaked hair and eyes as wide as saucers, though it looked like they were like that normally, and less so out of pure shock.

“Thank you so much,” She panted. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date, but I’m so glad that someone here helped. It’s not that busy this time of day, and I think I would’ve just kept running if nobody stepped in, but I couldn’t have done that for forever. Thank you.”

Schmidt looked to Nando and mouthed “date??” at him, but Nando steamrolled him for the sake of this woman. “We’re glad we could help! I was planning to do more, but, I guess that was taken care of!” He half laughed, and she laughed too.

“Do you know who was pursuing you? You should be able to file a police report to get a restraining order on…” Schmidt gestured towards the body that laid in a heap on the sidewalk. She gave a weak laugh.

“That’d be great, but he has more damage than I do, and, well, I know this guy.” She shrugged. “He must’ve thought I was someone else.”

“Know him? Who is he?”

“Well, I don’t _know him-_ know him, but I’ve seen him with my boss a lot. I think he might be some sort of bodyguard? I dunno.”

“You know,” Schmidt began. “We do run a detective agency.”

“ _Amateur_ detective agency.” Nando muttered as Schmidt gave her their card, something that Nando had designed in Photoshop that he seemed rather proud of at the time.

“We could hear your case out, maybe do some investigating on the side?” Schmidt continued. “We could go inside, get you a glass of water, and hear you out?” Nando seemed to get what he was trying to do then: this girl looked like she was 20 years old, maybe fresh out of college, who knows. She was young and vulnerable, and he didn’t want her to be left alone at a time like this, broad daylight be damned, Nando just didn’t want to give her false hope, considering that they _were_ amateurs, and every mystery that they had _“solved”_ so far seemed to have been just pure dumb luck on their part. This case seemed rather high-stakes in comparison to the good old days of knife dog.

But then he saw her eyes that looked like they were on the verge of tears, and the small smile on her face, and all he saw in her eyes was Nadia. He’d want someone to help her out if she was ever faced with such circumstances, even if those someones were people as disastrous and idiotic as him and Schmidt, at least it was somebody.

“There’ll probably be some people in the restaurant, so you don’t have to worry about being alone again.” Nando said, and she seemed to smile just a little wider.

“Alright!” She said, voice a little shaky, but still strong and loud enough to be heard, and she walked inside. “I’ll get us a booth and washed up,” She said. Schmidt gave her a nod and Nando gave a thumbs up in her direction, as he turned to grab his milkshake, one that seemed forgotten long, long ago.

“Should we do something with-“ Schmidt asked, once again gesturing towards the figure on the ground.

“It’d probably look far more suspicious if we moved him.” Nando said, thinking it over. “We could probably call in an anonymous tip to 911 or the cops or something. I just don’t know if it counts as self defense if he didn’t attack you first.”

“I panicked.”

“This is why we need PI licenses.”

Schmidt shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “After the case, maybe?”

“Maybe?” Nando asked, incredulously, but soon began snickering over it. “Maybe we should follow the letter of the law this one time as justice seekers?”

“Maybe.” Schmidt’s smile turned more genuine, but fell into a firm line as Nando turned for the door. “Hey Nando?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why did she think we were dating? Like, on a date when she first saw us?”

Nando was glad to have his back to Schmidt, because he honest to god felt his face heat up and he’d rather have a stake in killing god than having to explain this to Schmidt, because that meant explaining a lot, like the way he knows he sometimes has the softest smiles when he looks at Schmidt, or how often he’s able to make him laugh just by being the biggest dork in the universe. That, and he didn’t really want to. God, he really didn’t want to. 

So he gave a laugh, one that Schmidt definitely knew was fake, but seemed more confused by it than anything else.

“How about we solve that mystery after this one, ‘kay buddy?” He said, pulling on the door to the restaurant, but it wouldn’t budge. He pulled harder this time. And harder the following time.

“I think it’s a push door.” Schmidt said, opening the door with ease.

Nando thought back to that soliloquy he hosted within the confines of his own mind about how dense Schmidt seemed to be, and came to the realization that he was of the same breed, so to speak.

They were perfect for each other, to put it bluntly.

And if he was going to be continually reminded of this, this was going to be a very, _very_ long case.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, where do you want to start?” Liz asked in a voice that sounded unimaginably deeply rattled.
> 
> “How about from the beginning?” Nando smiled, trying to bring her to ease. “What led to all of this happening in the first place?”

The woman was named Elizabeth Taylor, a name that felt reminiscent to some sort of 17th century pilgrim, though they could only guess that her friends didn’t really see her like that. Her friends, in fact, knew her as “Liz” or “E” depending on how cool with her they were. (After all, only the coolest of individuals were simply referred to by an initial. Nando agreed on this.) She was 25 years old, a scorpio, and seemed to know how to play the soundtrack of _Grease_ on the piano based on how her perfectly painted nails pounded against the table as _Beauty School Dropout_ blared from the speakers in a muted sort of empty echo.

These were the facts.

Schmidt and Nando sat on one side of the booth, while Liz sat on the other. Nando ordered another plate of fries, and Schmidt pulled out a notebook to record the info they had at the moment, as well as a small doodle of the woman.

“So, where do you want to start?” Liz asked in a voice that sounded unimaginably deeply rattled.

“How about from the beginning?” Nando smiled, trying to bring her to ease. “What led to all of this happening in the first place?”

“Well,” Liz brushed some loose hair behind her ear as a basic fidget. Nothing too concerning, but Schmidt noticed. “I had just gotten off for lunch at work, um, I work at a pharmacy. I’m not like a doctor or anything, I’m just interning for the summer, I’m not even sure if I want to be a pharmacist, but, it makes good money, and I don’t really have an interest in anything else at the moment that I pursue instead, but...I’m getting off-topic, aren’t I? I’m sorry.”

Nando gave a polite, “not at all,” and urged her to continue, but Schmidt held his tongue. The statement was frivolous, she said so herself, but perhaps there could be something done with it. He’d watched enough crime shows for research to know that even the slightest of details could be important. However, couldn’t observing every tree within a thicket lead to missing the big picture in the first place? Why would he be observing individual trees anyhow? A tree’s a tree…

Schmidt would continue on this dazed sort of train of thought while listening to Liz’s story. There might have been something to this thought pattern, how could Schmidt say for certain until he followed it through to its natural conclusion?

Liz continued. “I decided that I wanted to go to a really cute cafe down the street, but then I realized that I forgot my phone at my desk, so I went inside to grab it. I went to my desk, grabbed my phone, and then I noticed that at the entrance, there was some weird guy lurking around. I think he’s one of the boss’s bodyguards, or something like that, but I can’t exactly say that for certain anymore. I don’t really have a good idea of what the boss’s bodyguards really look like. They kinda creep me out, all big and quiet, but, I mean, you saw the guy. I mean, you must’ve given him a quick once-over after you smacked him with the chair.” She said, gesturing towards Schmidt.

Nando saw the sort of dazed look in Schmidt’s eyes, and figured he might as well ask for a tad bit extra description of the man chasing her, if she had any.

Liz paused, trying to conjure the image of such a man in her mind, though even in such a short period of time, his image seemed to have faded. “He seemed normal, I guess, he was taller than me, though, that isn’t saying much,” she gestured to herself and her 5’2 frame. “And I guess he had a crooked nose? Like, like one that’s been broken a bunch.”

“Like a hockey player’s nose or something?”

“I don’t know? I haven’t really been looking at any hockey player’s noses recently.”

“Recently?”

“Why are we talking about hockey players? Would hockey players even have broken noses? They wear helmets.” Schmidt asked, genuinely, even as Nando placed his face in his hands in a brief moment of frustration. “Nando, it’s a legitimate question.”

Liz steamrolled past that. “The point is that it looks like the guy’s seen a few fisticuffs, just a real imposing guy to see standing on the wrong side of the counter, which he was. He was in our offices, and I was the only one left, but I really didn’t want to be left alone with him, so I kinda just...left him there?” She said, simultaneously sheepish and exhausted. “I know that must sound super irresponsible.”

“It’s not irresponsible to look out for your own safety.” Schmidt promptly stated. “If you truly felt threatened by this man, then it’s rather clever of you to be aware of your surroundings and make choices for your personal betterment.”

She nodded, as if she sort of knew this was the sort of thing she knew she was supposed to think and supposed to hear, but Schmidt could tell it didn’t exactly resonate with her. The guilt would still be there. Nando was still grappling with the fact that that seemed like one of the most well thought-out and eloquent things he’s ever heard him say, coming from the man who had to ask him if molasses was flammable and thought that “Nando” was his full name. Like Cher.

Of course, this bewilderment couldn’t last for long.

“Anyhow, I left the office, and used the back exit into the alleyway to get out. It’s not the safest route, I gotta admit, but it’s, well, it’s fast, and I didn’t want to be alone for too long, so I used it. So I walked, I turned the corner, and I looked to the left, and you know what I saw? I saw the guy by the door, but he was out there, and he was looking at me! And when I saw he was looking at me, he began approaching me, meaning he was looking for me,” Liz’s voice got more and more panicked, and her eyes were filling up with tears. “And, and I...I was so scared.” Her voice sounded far more vulnerable than they had ever heard it. Nando handed her a napkin to dab at her eyes.

“I was so s-scared, and I figured, if I ran, if I stayed in a public place, if people saw me, and knew me, and knew of the danger I was in, well, maybe they could help. Maybe they’d stop him.” She sniffed. “But nobody did. Not until you, uh, you know.”

“Thank you for being willing to speak with us.” Nando said. “I think the first place we should go is back to the pharmacy, if it’s alright with you. There might be something we can find there to help us figure things out.”

“Sure thing,” she said. “I can take you down there, if you’d like.”

Nando looked to Schmidt, and he nodded. 

“Sounds great.”

She nodded, and smiled. She looked tired, but seemed to be in a better state of mind than when she had first entered the diner. “I just wanted to thank you two, just being able to talk about everything that just happened, and being in a public setting, and just being able to feel safe, it just...It just really helps. Thank you.” She begins to walk out the diner’s doors, with Schmidt and Nando following behind her, side by side, but stopping them in their tracks as she turns around. “And really, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for ruining your date.”

Schmidt tried to meet Nando’s eyes, confused. He was about to say something before Nando raised a hand, a motion to let him speak instead, and simply said, “it’s not a problem at all, honestly, we’re just glad you’re safe.”

She smiled, and nodded, and allowed herself to continue forward. 

Nando looked at him. He looked at him, but Schmidt couldn’t tell what he was feeling, and he gestured with his arms in a way that made it look like he was going to say something, but Schmidt didn’t have a clue what he was going to say next. Nando seemed to give up the ghost in that respect, not really saying anything, and just continued to follow her.

Schmidt had no choice but to follow as well.

-

Schmidt wasn’t exactly what you’d call a person prone to worry, or much over-thinking for that matter.

The fact of the matter was that Schmidt was doing both of those things that both he and others would find atypical of him.

It’s just that...This troubled him. Schmidt wouldn’t exactly call himself the best at people, or relationships for that matter. He already came off as quiet and withdrawn, the type of man not to be bothered, and the people who wanted to interact with him sort of flocked to him first. His fans surely did, but so did other Instagram models seeking friendship. They made themselves known, set the parameters for their interactions, and Schmidt sort of worked off of that within their periods of interactions, and how he thought of them. It was a tightly wound script, and Schmidt was fine with it staying that way. Nothing more, nothing less.

Of course, these parameters were thrown off the minute he met Nando. Nando might’ve shown a slight interest in criminal investigation when they first met, but Schmidt was the one who roped him into becoming his partner and...sorta friend? Friends would eat out together, right? That was a thing friends do, he’s seen movies.

Their relationship was defined, but not clearly, and it was clearly abstract enough that any random bystander could extrapolate anything they wanted within it. I mean, look at Liz. Liz saw two men eating lunch together, who didn’t look to be related, and looked too cordial and considerate to be friends, so she came to the conclusion that they were lovers.

This would be an easy enough thing to dispel, a simple comment would sort her out, and then they could go on their merry way, but the question really was, did he want this sort of thing to be corrected?

He didn’t know. He just...didn’t?

He liked Nando, after all, they were partners, friends, some may even say good friends. Nadia said he was like her second hot dad, which was confusing and weird, but it probably meant something or other. 

The point was that he liked Nando. He liked a lot of things about him, he was a handsome guy, and he seemed to be a good dad, and had a nice smile and a cool tattoo, but, of course, they were just good friends. You can say that sort of stuff about your good friends, it won’t kill you.

But wouldn’t it?

Wouldn’t it truly?

Who’s to say if it _wouldn’t_ kill him?

Not violently, but in its own way. To drown in his own garden of thorns for the sake of a rose...

Schmidt could practically feel himself getting a headache. Of course, that’s what he gets for trying to think for 3 minutes. He could practically feel the pain behind his eyes and thumping against his temple.

He was going to raise a hand to his eyes to block out the sun, if only just to dull the pain slightly, when Nando elbowed him lightly while they walked.

“This feels strange, doesn’t it?” Nando asked in a low voice. “Think of it, the bodyguard was not only a recognizable figure to the victim, but he attacked so brashly and out in the open, isn’t that weird?”

Schmidt nodded, though not really listening. Even low voices were beginning to hurt his ears, and he was slightly worried that he might be having some sort of sensory issue in public. This was almost as irritating as the headache, especially since it wasn’t that loud, and he had been in places louder than a public sidewalk and been fine. Sure, there was a car alarm going off, and the loud conversations from across the way were reaching his ear, but that was nothing compared to the social media conventions he’d attended once or twice. Maybe his mind created all the noise necessary for a complete and utter mental collapse, but he found the whole thing as annoying as it was panic-inducing.

He was _not_ going to have a nervous breakdown in the middle of a case. He was _not._ He didn’t even have a _reason_ for a nervous breakdown, and that just made it all the more frustrating.

Schmidt began pulling some wireless earbuds out of his pocket. “Perhaps the bodyguard had a reason to believe he wasn’t going to get caught. I mean, the kind of people who hire help like that usually have money to burn.” He mumbled, listening to a weird sort of folk song as they walked.

Nando eyed him strangely for the act, the walk was probably going to be less than 5 minutes, but Schmidt needed this, and he didn’t want to explain to this man that merely pondering having a crush on him had given him a headache so severe he was half-convinced it was an aneurysm. And that was even before he had to explain the whole, “hey, noise is bad sometimes” thing to him. If he ever did.

It also gave him some time to ponder things. An attacker may pursue an individual in public, but one never did it in plain sight. That is, without an ulterior motive. He might’ve been in the social media circuit for too long, but he’s seen what people would do for clout. Crimes have been committed for the sake of attention like this, even negative attention. If he was really willing to hedge his bets like that, he’d say that this might be something like that. Maybe not for social media, but perhaps...something for an audience, nonetheless. A performance, if you would.

The only question was who was in the audience? Who was looking for something like that to happen? And what was their response? 

Was there applause?

Was there silence?

And which was he supposed to fear more?

These were the thoughts that ran through his head. Maybe not phrased in such a way, but, the meaning resonated. And, in a more literal way, it quite literally resonated within his skull. The noise, non-noise was getting 

Regardless, their walk to the pharmacy was swift, and lasted a whole 7 minutes, so Schmidt almost felt slightly justified in his outwardly erratic decisions anyhow.

The pharmacy’s building was tall, but not tall comparatively. Maybe 3-5 stories built out of rose red bricks, with a sign reading “Santa Nino’s Pharmaceuticals” with a subtitle that said, “Guaranteeing the best in modern medicine for 15 years.”

He couldn’t help but wonder how often that sign got changed. He also wondered why brands always advertised their age, as he’s never exactly heard of a restaurant bragging about “Guaranteeing the best burgers for 3 years.” These were the thoughts that ran through his head.

Regardless of any such things, Liz beckoned them inside, and Nando and Schmidt followed, as they said they would. Sure, Schmidt may have dawdled more than Nando did, but it’s not like they could change their mind now, and even then, there was still that chance that the case was just a freak incident of sorts, and all they really had to do was make her feel secure enough to return to her job. 

Simple, as simple as picking up luggage, or fighting a knife dog. They could work with that. They were detectives, but they weren’t “detectives.” It’s not like they were ever going to be given an ACTUAL job. That's just how things were, and that's how things seemed like they were always going to be.

Of course, the ear-splitting shriek that followed made it clear that this was not going to be a simple case, and that they did have an actual job, things were going to get a lot more complicated, and things were going to be changing a lot around here, and Schmidt couldn't even say if it was for the better.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, well, I guess I'm continuing this, and all it took was a country-long lockdown. 
> 
> I'm just going to say that I've never CLAIMED to be a mystery writer, and I maintain this statement all the while writing detective romance fiction.
> 
> Also, am I going to project my own lack of understanding of most relationships and sensory issues onto these characters? Is that not why characters exist, if only to be vessels for unspoken issues? That's just fiction, baby.
> 
> juliastartoons.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nando didn’t know how one was supposed to act in the presence of a dead body."
> 
> It doesn't get any better than that.

Nando didn’t know how one was supposed to act in the presence of a dead body. He knew of a friend of a friend who was really into taxidermy, and had shown him once or twice the best way to skin a bird while keeping their feathers, but those sessions always left him a little queasy and existential. Even passing the occasional roadkill while driving caused his stomach to pang in a strange, unfortunate way that made him feel sort of sick, but not sick enough to  _ be  _ sick, and that made him feel strangely bad about it.

Shrieking seemed to be a strange response. It wasn’t like a dead body posed that much of a danger, but the implication of a past danger, rather. Maybe that’s why humans were so naturally repulsed by dead things. Regardless, Nando viewed it as a valid perspective.

He felt a lot of things while staring at the keeled-over corpse of a Mrs. Emily Gooden, as Liz would identify while clasping her hands over her mouth, sobbing.

These were also valid responses to have to a dead body, especially of someone you liked, and to a lesser extent, knew.

“We weren’t close-close, you know? Like, she has her life together. She has kids. She once asked me what I do after work, and I couldn’t tell her that all I’ve been doing is playing  _ Poptropica  _ while eating pringles on the couch, so I lied and said I just napped all the time. Sorry, bad joke for a bad headspace,” she muttered. “She was a work friend, but she was also a friend, you know?” Liz explained, beginning to bite at her fingernails. Nando turned to look at Schmidt.  _ I mean,  _ he thought,  _ if this was the man who was so repulsed by a knife-wielding dog, a dead body  _ **_must_ ** _ be affecting him in some way. _

Nando was right. In a way. Schmidt did stare at the corpse with wide eyes...as he began putting on a pair of leather gloves, (who even carries  _ leather _ gloves with them? What is he, some kind of horse jockey?) and approached the body, kneeling next to her corpse.

Nando kind of wanted to stop him, but Schmidt also usually made such strange but bold decisions, that he kind of wanted to see what he would do. 

Mrs. Emily Gooden was a plump, 5’2, 47-year-old woman who had platinum streaks in her hair and giant plastic nails on her fingers. She wore a lab coat, sensible shoes, and mom jeans. Her desk had three different pill bottles of heart medicine, a pile of various different papers and files that needed to be distributed, a wrist brace, a computer, and a calendar of cats in medical settings. You know, middle-aged lady stuff.

Now, one could easily guess that Mrs. Emily Gooden died of a heart attack, what with her age and the various signs of her ailing health. Liz had explained that most people left the office to eat, unless they were working the front desk, due to an incident of contamination in the past that left the company with a hefty lawsuit. So, with this information, one could easily make the guess that Mrs. Emily Gooden was working the front desk by herself, had a heart attack, and with no one to help her, collapsed onto the floor, and died of the said heart attack. 

This is an assessment you could make, why Mrs. Gooden would be at her office, far, far away from the front desk, who’s to say. Some would be content with this argument.

Schmidt was not some, in that he was willing to flip over a corpse.

And so he did, and man, what did he find.

“The neck has mottled bruising. It’s still very red, so it’s obviously fresh, and the way it looked like it was gripped was with only one hand, with the thumb specifically pressing into a pressure point.”

“Wha-What pressure point?” Nando asked, Schmidt looked to him, and stood. He removed one of his gloves, and pressed a hand to Nando’s neck, resting his thumb between where the clavicles met. Liz gestured in the same fashion towards her own neck.

“Right there,” Schmidt said, in a whispery, spacey voice. 

Nando did everything he could not to swallow. He was beginning to feel warm, and then he was beginning to feel stupid for even feeling such a way in the first place. 

“Pressing down on that spot is a good way to cut off somebody’s air flow in a fast and efficient manner,” he removed his hand. “Of course, applying it to a victim whose windpipe you could crush like a bendy straw is kinda overkill.”

Nando looked to Liz. “Do you have a friend you could stay with?”

“Do you think this is connected?”

“Clear-”

Nando elbowed Schmidt. “Lightning doesn’t usually strike twice, you know? It’s better safe than sorry.” 

“And the last thing we need is for you to be implicated.” Schmidt added, sort of getting the tone. 

“Wait, has this body been called in yet?” Nando asked.

“Well, it doesn’t look like anybody’s been here but us,” Liz said slowly. “But aren’t you guys detectives anyhow?”

Now it was Schmidt’s turn to step in front of Nando. “ _ Private _ detectives. We’re private detectives.”

“What’s the difference?”

As Schmidt and Liz argued about the technicalities of private, police, and the idea of public detectives, Nando decided it would be a good time to call the police, and ask them to professionally check out a corpse. He really hoped Schmidt’s DNA wasn’t on the body, but what was he supposed to do if he was the one who insisted on wearing those  _ stupid non-disposable gloves- _

Liz left shortly after that. With her cellphone dead, Schmidt called her an Uber and she was on her way. The police would be there soon, which meant that it would only be so long before they were implicated at the crime scene, but, more importantly, they only had so much more time to look for more evidence.

Nando looked at Schmidt.

“What?”

“What?” Nando asked as Schmidt moved to look through the desk, snapping photos here and there of pill bottles and kittens alike. “What was up with that stuff before? About the bruising and the choking?”

Schmidt seemed to puff up at that, almost proud. It was subtle, but Nando saw it. “It’s good for a detective to know these things, Nando.”

Nando waited for a moment.

“Somebody wanted me to promote their online martial arts course, so I got six weeks of free lessons.”

“Isn’t the whole point of martial arts is that it’s a physical  _ contact  _ sport?”

“Eh,” Schmidt said, continuing to snap photos. “I think I learned a lot.”

“Okay then, why the gloves?”

“Sometimes texture is bad.”

Schmidt didn’t elaborate after that, and Nando didn’t question more after that. “Sometimes texture is bad” was definitely an answer, if nothing else.

It was then that Nando heard sirens outside the door, and grabbed Schmidt by the crook of his elbow to run him out the back exit, down an alleyway, and to safety. Safety, generally speaking. Safety at this point just meant somewhere where they didn’t have to worry about getting stopped by so much as a crossing guard for the suspicious behavior they were partaking in. 

Because if two 30 year old men running out of a dark alley like hell itself is on their heels isn’t considered suspicious behavior, then what is?

“Okay, we gotta stop, I literally cannot run anymore.” Nando muttered as they slowed from their bolt to a jog, to standing completely still.

“You were the one who made us run.” Schmidt said tersely, trying to hide that he too was seconds away from passing out. He pulled off his gloves and stuck them in his pocket, and reached into the other pocket for his phone.

“You’re  _ keeping  _ the gloves you touched a dead body with?”

“They’re good gloves.”

Nando was going to continue bickering with him over this, but the phone posed more intrigue at that moment, and he could rib Schmidt over his corpse gloves later. 

However, from what they could tell, there wasn’t really anything they could use. The various forms of heart medication could be just that, or switched out for more dangerous chemicals, but without access to a toxicology report, there’d be no way of knowing. For all they knew, the clue they were looking for could be found in Mrs. Gooden’s paper stack, or on her computer, or her cell phone, and they had no way to get back there, not without implicating themselves more than they probably already had.

At least in Schmidt’s rush, he had managed to take pictures of every kitten on Mrs. Emily Gooden’s “The Doctor Will See You Meow” calendar, licensed by...No, that can’t be right.

“Since when do pharmacy’s make their own calendars?”

“I don’t know, marketability?” Schmidt asked, leaning over Nando’s shoulder to look at his phone. “The Wheeler Institute of Modern Medicine?”

“I guess they gotta call themselves something.”

“But why would Mrs. Gooden have the merchandise of a  _ rival  _ company at her desk? You might as well show up wearing Sox merch to a Cubs game and expect the same results.”

“Right, I know about sports.” Schmidt nodded. “It’s as good a place to start as any.” He shrugged.

Nando nodded, but then sighed. “I can’t believe the only clue we have is a kitten calendar.”

“Believe it.”

\-----

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why do you call her Mrs. Gooden?”

“Because she’s married, it’s supposed to be more respectable, or something.”

“So what, should I begin calling you mister….Mister…”

“Do you still not know my last name?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry for the short chapter! At least plot stuff is happening?)
> 
> Karina and I have an unspoken dark pact that if she draws Schmando, I have to update my Hot Guy PI fanfiction, and I spoke of such an unspoken dark pact on this day, so I really had to make sure I had something to show for it.
> 
> I don’t know what a pharmacy is supposed to be like, and you can tell. I am so sorry. 
> 
> However! That method of choking and bruising is accurate! I learned it in my martial arts class when I was 7, and the teacher never mentioned it again. Wild, huh.
> 
> Juliastartoons.tumblr.com   
> Also, I began doing a kofi thing https://ko-fi.com/juliastartoons today, So, I guess I should promote it, huh.

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes!
> 
> \- This was made for Karina as a "sorry you got fired" present, but it took far too long for it to really fill that emotional void, so, whoops. Sorry Karina.  
> \- I have no idea if I characterized them right. Please let me know. Please.  
> \- This was originally supposed to be a 1K lunch date fic, but it kinda spiraled elsewhere. I actually have a mystery sort of planned out, so if you guys would actually want to see it, I'd love to do it, though it'd probably be baby's 1st crime novel, so keep that in mind.  
> \- Chandler, who hangs out with Nando at the arcade when he brings his daughter, was a character from the "Raddest Women" episode of Drawfee, in the same way that Schmidt and Nando originated from the "Handsome Man" episode. She's here because I want more Ladies at Law content because I've gotten really into Phoenix Wright recently, and the fact I cannot project anything onto them due to not knowing their personalities very well is a crime.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3apbkYi8c0Y  
> \- I asked Karina if Schmidt watched Johnny Test and she said she'd leave that answer up to me. That's far too much power for me, a mere mortal to possess. I don't want this.
> 
> Tumblr: https://juliastartoons.tumblr.com


End file.
